Page 68 of Lorran
Wyn threw her hands in the air. “I’m trying, but I’m not a ninja.”
The translator chip informed him that a ninja was an elite warrior from Earth’s ancient past, rivaled in prowess only by pirates. Interesting.
“Oh my God, are you preening?”
He was, but he said, “No. The sun was in my eyes.”
Wyn pushed aside leafy fronds with more force than necessary. She crashed through the undergrowth. Good thing they were not hunting. “I thought there was a path,” she grumbled.
“If you moved with deliberation instead of blundering through like a—”
Her posture stiffened, as if fearing an insult from him. “Like what?”
“Like an impatient youth,” he said.
The irritation in her seemed to drain away, but she still lifted her chin and held her shoulders back, stubborn as ever.
“I’ll allow it,” she said and continued on. If she moved with caution and stomped her feet less, he made no comment. Eventually a path emerged, the pavement broken and nearly swallowed by weeds. An equipment shed, rusted and leaning precariously to one side, sat at the far side of a clearing. The grass was knee-high.
The area suited his purpose. “Stay, and I will set up the targets.” He released three drones, each equipped with holographic targets. The drones could be programmed to move in random directions, but he imputed the command to remain stationary.
Wyn sat on the ground with the rifle case across her lap. She removed her gloves and tugged at the collar of the suit. “I’m sorry for losing my cool. I’m not feeling particularly graceful in this thing and, well, you know.”
“I do not know.”
“Women my size…people think they have to tell us we’re fat, like we don’t know. It wears you down. I thought you were making a fat joke.”
“I would never. My mate is perfect,” he said, crouching down to meet her at eye level. When she did not meet his gaze, he gently lifted her chin with a finger. “Perfect,” he repeated.
“Your mate is sweaty and gross at the moment.”
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Perfect because she is a female with moods and opinions and makes snuffling noises in her sleep. She is not flawless, and I like her even more because of it.” He had already expressed how much he admired and desired her physical form. He would continue to show her until she believed him. “I also like that my mate has paint on her nose.”
“Oh my God.” Wyn scrubbed at her face. “This place doesn’t have a mirror, and that’s been there since yesterday. Were you ever going to tell me?”
“No. It is cute.”
“Cute,” she repeated, as if she did not believe him.
He liked many things about his Bronwyn, but he did not like that she doubted her own attractiveness. She was a female made for a warrior, her softness the ideal antidote to burdens he carried. A playful spirit burned within her, calling him. Her sharp mind—and sharper tongue—challenged him.
Perfect.
“What makes you doubt yourself? Was it your faithless male?” She had skirted around her former mate, making vague statements aboutnot working out.
“Oscar?” She sounded surprised.
“Yes. Him. I dislike him on principle. Tell me he said damaging words. I will seek retribution.” Lorran could not take back any hurtful words the male said, but he could break a few bones.
An unexpected laugh tore from her lips. “No. I mean, sort of. Oscar made lots of little digs, mostly about my painting and lack of artistic vision, but he didn’t really say anything rude about my love handles.”
“I adore those,” he said, voice heated. “They are perfect for holding you while I fuck you.”
Her face reddened, and she stared down at her lap, playing with the fasteners on the case. “The things you say.” Then, “Fuck, I can’t believe I wasted years on that man. Let’s shoot something.”
He liked this plan.
Taking the rifle from the case, he demonstrated how to operate the weapon. When he was satisfied that she understood the basics, she accepted the rifle with practiced ease.
